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DOORWAYS: Len, a guitar, and a wolf

8/31/2016

2 Comments

 
I regularly unpack that Goya guitar bought back in 1968, pin on my Certified Music Practitioner badge and head down some hallway to offer the ministry of music to critically and chronically ill, elderly and dying patients.
 

This day I enter the hallway at Mountain Valley Hospice House in Upstate New York.
 

My Yamaha and Martin steel stringed guitars remain home most of the time. The Goya's sweet tones complement the hushed, even holy atmosphere of the House. The glinty, outspoken sound of steel strings is too big for frail, often overwhelmed patients in small rooms.
​ 

Len is one such patient.
 
By the title of this new story I hope you will be as surprised as I was by what occurred with me and Len. Any ideas? Go ahead, use your imagination.
2 Comments

Closed Door

8/30/2016

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I noted that Len's door was still closed as it had been every time I came to the Hospice House. I asked about him.
 
The nurses explained he was so medically compromised that he refused to spend any time with a stranger, fearing the embarrassment of having an accident. I inwardly cringed. No wonder this poor man isolated himself.
​ 
Something made me want to give him music. But I was a stranger.
 
​I cannot fully explain the "something" that made me want to give music to the very ill, the very private Len.
 
​Have you had similar unexplained "somethings" urge you on? 
What happened?
2 Comments

Door Ajar

8/29/2016

1 Comment

 
Later that day, I caught my first glimpse of Len as he sat, door ajar, in his recliner in his room, huddled up under several blankets, watching an old movie on television.
​ 
If I was ever going to offer him music I would need to proceed slowly so I just slowed long enough to wave at him and then moved on to another patient's room.


But I was curious about the television volume. It was turned off.

​Why do you think Len has the television volume turned off? Guesses welcome. 
1 Comment

Caught his eye

8/28/2016

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I could tell my guitar caught Len's eye. He didn't wave back to me or look me in the face, but followed the Goya, turning his head to keep it in his sight as I passed his door.

Why do you think my guitar interested Len? Guitars are pretty common instruments. Your thoughts?
0 Comments

Asked about me

8/27/2016

6 Comments

 
I learned on my next visit to Hospice House that Len had asked a nurse about me after I left the week earlier.
​ 
He told her he heard the music, turned off his tv volume and cracked the door himself in an effort to better listen to the songs I was singing.

I was surprised about the nurse's information about Len. I had no idea that the music could be heard through his closed door, especially with the tv going. Televisions in patient rooms often go non-stop. Do you think tv is a good idea for the ill and dying? Why or why not?
6 Comments

He hesitated

8/26/2016

2 Comments

 
When I saw Len again he was walking at a slow pace in the patient wing of the Hospice House, dragging his oxygen tank behind him.

He was a skeleton of a man. His eyes, his skin, were yellow.
​
I introduced myself and asked if he might like some music later. He hesitated, then finally said, "I like country music. Guitar."

Why did Len hesitate?
2 Comments

His walls were blank

8/25/2016

2 Comments

 
After playing and singing for other patients, I moved on to Len's room.

He sat, waiting for me, wrapped again in a heap of blankets. I noticed that figures of deer and eagles and wolves were woven into the fabric of these warm throws.

The walls of his room were blank and his only other possessions, an ashtray and a pack of open cigarettes, sat on his bedside table.

What are your feelings for Len at this point? Describe.
2 Comments

Elvis

8/24/2016

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Remembering Len's words about liking country and guitar and assuming his age was close to mine, I began with an Elvis number, an easy mix of soft and gentle early rock and the homegrown voice of The King.

Love me tender, love me still, all my dreams fulfill, for my darling I love you, and I always will.

He studied my hands playing the guitar.
​
Then he looked far away, out the window of his empty room.

Where do you think Len is looking, besides out his window? Gestures told me a lot about Len in this setting.  What do they tell you?
0 Comments

Them Blankets

8/23/2016

2 Comments

 
Len stared off, into the open space out his window while I sang through to the end of "Love Me Tender."

When the music stopped we kept the silence together. Then he spoke.
​
"My wife left me. I got a daughter. She gave me them blankets. She's got a baby now but she ain't married. She might come see me."

"Does she like music?"

"I don't know. I ain't been around her 'til I got sick and come here. This is a nice place. They take good care a you."

So few words, but so much information. What is beginning to happen in this scene?  Ideas?
2 Comments

Stopover in Reno

8/22/2016

2 Comments

 
I felt okay about asking Len a personal question.

"What did you do for a living?"

"Truck driver. You know, them big ones. Cross country, stopover in Reno. Pick up the load, then haul to the City, mostly. I just went where they told me."

My role was to offer music to Len, but I asked him a personal question. Was that okay?  Why or why not?
2 Comments

Asphalt and Cement

8/21/2016

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I couldn't imagine this tiny man climbing up into the cab of an eighteen wheeler and piloting that monstrosity at high speeds back and forth the asphalt and cement byways of the US.

I could imagine his life on the road, though: cigarettes, booze, probably drugs, caffeine, and fast food.

He was the embodiment of a man wrecked by hard living.

Ironic that Len's hard living lands him at Hospice House, possibly the nicest place he ever lived. I made a lot of assumptions about Len's lifestyle, his living arrangements. Am I off the mark? Comments.
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Generous

8/20/2016

4 Comments

 
But Len was gentle.
​
And later I learned, very thoughtful and generous.

Len's hard living, his occupation as a long-haul truck driver, were not who he was. Have you made assumptions about people you meet based on their lifestyle, their occupation?  Did your opinions change? How?
4 Comments

Folsom Prison

8/19/2016

1 Comment

 
The next week and the next, there was no question about my entering Len's room.

"How about some Johnny Cash?" I asked.

​"Yeah, I like his music. Specially the guitar 'Folsom Prison.'

​I took a risk when I asked patients for their musical preferences. Was this risk worth taking?  Why? Or why not?
1 Comment

Twenty minutes

8/18/2016

2 Comments

 
On we went through the long winter with those sessions of country music. Twenty minutes was usually enough. I could tell when Len got tired.

Those sad eyes closed and his small head, covered with wisps of slicked back brown hair, eased back into his lounge chair. He'd begin to fall asleep then jerk awake not wanting to offend me.
I knew it was time to leave.
Paying attention to a sick a person's body language is so important. I have seen well-meaning visitors miss the clues and stay too long. What signs other than the ones Len gave off, might you pay attention to as a visitor to an ill or dying person?  Your input is valued.
2 Comments

Real good

8/17/2016

2 Comments

 
"You play that guitar real good," Len said one day as I began to pack up.

​And as I was halfway out the door he added, "I always wanted to play one."
Where do you think Len's statement will take me?  Where would you go with it?
2 Comments

No guitar, no money

8/16/2016

0 Comments

 
Len's words about always wanting to play the guitar rang in my ears. I could give him lessons on my own time as a volunteer.

But he had no guitar. And no money to buy one.
​
I had an idea.

​What idea do you think I'm cooking?
0 Comments

Roadside shack

8/15/2016

2 Comments

 
On the way home from Hospice, I stopped at Dad's Music Store, a kind of roadside shack, patched up and painted on the outside, very unlike Darby or Alexandria Music Stores, but like them on the inside, a feast of music and instruments crammed into a small space.

​Never judge a book by its cover. This applies to people, but also places! Where have you seen this play out? 
Comment below?
2 Comments

Smoked furiously

8/14/2016

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Dad's Music Store was owned by a man who resembled Len.

He smoked furiously. He knew me. 

I had bought guitar strings and accessories there, drooled over the Guild guitars in the lighted glass case. 
​
I explained my work at Hospice and told him about Len.

​Dad was very interested in my work at Hospice. I find that most people are drawn in by 
conversation about music and healing.  Why do you think this is?
0 Comments

Easy action

8/13/2016

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"Could you offer me a good deal on a guitar?" I asked Dad, the owner of the music store.

"One with easy action. Len's really weak, his hands and fingers are small. He'll need all the help the guitar can give him to press the strings down."
​
I paused and looked over at Dad.

Was I too pushy to ask about a "good deal" on a guitar for Len? I could tell that Dad's Music Store didn't enjoy a lot of business. There was hardly ever a car parked in its lot.  
Your thoughts?
0 Comments

I can do better than that

8/12/2016

2 Comments

 
Dad eyed his guitars, then looked back at me.
​
"I can do better then that. How 'bout I donate a guitar to Len?"

Did you see this coming? I surely did not.
2 Comments

Handed over

8/11/2016

2 Comments

 
I was stunned. Dad's Music was no fancy, city music shop. I wondered how Dad even made it up in this rural Adirondack area of New York.
​
A polished, new student-sized guitar with easy action, along with a case, a stand, some oversize picks, and a music book with a CD, were handed over to me on the spot.
Generosity can truly be stunning. When have you experienced gifts of any sort as giver or receiver?
2 Comments

Dad just smiled

8/10/2016

0 Comments

 
I could hardly contain myself over the prospect of giving Len his own instrument along with the promise for lessons.

"I'll make sure you get a letter from Hospice for your donation," I said to Dad. "You can take it off your taxes." Dad seemed uninterested in the offer. 

"And thank you. A lot. Len will be surprised. I'll let you know how it goes." 
​
Dad just smiled.
Dad's gift-giving was instructive to me. What do you take away from his actions, his words, his gestures?
0 Comments

Everyone can come

8/9/2016

0 Comments

 
After I loaded the guitar and all the gear for Len into my car, I called Hospice to relate the great news.

The secretary couldn't believe the good fortune. She put down the phone receiver and I could overhear her excitement as she shared the news with the staff.

"I'll call the local newspaper for photos and a story," she said. "We'll have ice cream and cake. Everyone can come."
​
Even a date was set for the event.
​
Celebration, relishing the moments in life are hallmarks of Hospice.  What can we learn from this practice?
0 Comments

My only regret

8/8/2016

0 Comments

 
As I drove home with the car full of Len's guitar and all its accoutrements, my only regret was that Len wasn't with me at the music store. I imagined that his intrigue with all the instruments, at least the guitars, matched mine.
​
I would have loved seeing Len's expression when Dad removed a guitar from the wall peg and handed it to him.
Later I wondered if Len had ever been in a music store?  What do you think?
0 Comments

Door closed

8/7/2016

2 Comments

 
Then Len became very ill. His door remained closed once again.
​
I prayed and held my breath.
A saying goes like this, "You can plan the plans, but you can't plan the outcome." True? When?  Share an experience where this was true for you.
2 Comments
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